


There's No Road That Ain't a Hard Road (To Travel On)

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avenger James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Awesome Clint Barton, Character Death, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Iron Man 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sick Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: "I’m getting worried."“Well, you’re the only one.”In which Steve, Clint, and Nat are staying at the tower, and Tony's self-destructive tendencies and his sass destroy everything he knows.Please read the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Life isn’t hard, but dying is easier.
> 
> Please read the tags before reading, a lot of it is potentially triggering.
> 
> Also Steve is a complete ass in this.

Life is hard.

That’s what Tony Stark learned from a young age; but yet he doesn’t quite agree with it. He was always technical. 

He spent his entire childhood trying to win approval from his father, trying to live up to his expectations. He invented his first robot at the age of four, for God’s sake; and what did he get? Nothing. His father had to step out to take a phone call before he even finished his demonstration. That was hard.

His mother was closer to him than his father, but even that had its limits; she always put Howard Stark first. Dress like Howard told you to. Act like Howard told you to. She did everything that he told her to do, and a lot of those things were not ‘go take care of our son’. Tony Stark lived practically under the care of his butler, who wasn’t there at night so he was free to steal all of the drinks out from his father’s pantry and forget the harsh words that Howard Stark had told him previously. That was hard.

What else was hard? Trying to outshine Captain-fucking-America. And he never did, which was probably why his father never paid any attention to him. Tony got home from MIT for a weekend to visit home, and all he had to listen to was how great Captain America was. That was all Howard Stark talked about, at the dinner table, in the family room, while his mother was playing piano and Tony was lying on the couch. Sure, it was amazing, but Tony was in MIT by fifteen, did that not deserve at least some recognition?

Needless to say, Tony was very happy when the weekend was over and he got sent away again. And his father never looked happier to ship him away. That was hard.

When Howard Stark died, Tony couldn’t say he was all that miserable. Sure, it was hard, but it’s hard to have too much emotion when the man who died taught him to repress it. “Stark men don’t cry,” was frequently said. 

So Tony didn’t cry at the funeral. Too many cameras. It was hard, but he managed it.

He always did.

So, life isn’t hard, necessarily. It’s pretty easy to have a life. It’s the things that happen in life that make it hard.

Tony sat all alone, as usual, in his workshop. There was so much to do. The team asked him to make them new weapons, new upgrades, so many things. It’s getting hard to keep up with them. Tony doesn’t think he’s slept in days.

“Hide all tabs,” he said, wiping his hands on a greasy towel. The blue holograms quickly went blank.

He looked longingly at the couch, but sighed when he realized that his to-do list was still open. “I thought I said hide all tabs.”

“You asked me to lock it, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Add ‘unlock to-do list’ to the list,” he said, frowning when the action was completed and the list grew. 

Tony turned his back to his work station, heading upstairs for the first time in two days; the team was all living at his tower, so they’d no doubt be around. When he rounded the corner, Clint and Steve sat on the couch, surfing through channels. 

“Hey,” he announced his arrival in the living commons, heading straight for the coffee machine. “Anything good on?” he gestured to the TV.

“The usual. The Simpsons, Mrs Doubtfire, and the news. Oh wait, I think there’s a nature documentary!” Clint said with sarcastic enthusiasm, putting the remote down on the coffee table and leaning back into the cushions.

The windows looked over the sunset, a bright ball of fire (or plasma, to be technical) casting orange into the room. Tony flicked on the kitchen light and leaned heavily on the breakfast counter.

“Isn’t it bad to have coffee this late?” Steve asked Tony, frowning when he got out a tiny Keurig cup.

“If only you knew,” Tony shook his head, waiting as the water boiled. “You’re a super soldier, what do you know about exhaustion?”

“Are my new arrows almost done?” Clint asked, with childlike excitement. “The ones with the like, selective exploding things. I don’t know the technical term.”

“I’m getting do it, I’ve just gotta get a few other things done,” Tony grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Give it a day or two.”

“We could get called into mission any day,” Steve said sternly, raising an eyebrow. “You should prioritize the team.”

“But-”

“Sure, Stark Industries is important, but don’t you think saving the world takes priority?” he continued.

“No, man, it’s fine, take your time-” Clint tried to say, glancing at the expression that Tony was giving him. A face of tiredness and annoyance.

“I’ll have it to you by morning,” Tony sighed, filling up the mug and taking a sip of his burning coffee. “Thanks for the pep talk, Cap.”

“No, like honest, Stark, I can have it by-” Clint continued.

“By morning. Team things first, I get it,” Tony put a hand up to interrupt him. “Have fun watching how the ecosystem works,” he grabbed the entire container of instant coffee and brought it down to his work station, ignoring Captain America’s gaze that made him want to punch him.

He didn’t know why he agreed to do this; maybe he felt like he had something to prove, since he wasn’t on the team, or maybe it was his old habit of needing to impress someone. Or maybe he was just tired. Too tired to fight back. 

“JARVIS, complete lock down. Move all SI projects to the bottom of the list,” Tony said polishing off his current mug of coffee and warming up the kettle to make the instant coffee. “We’re in for a long night.”

\--

“Here. Arrows.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Clint frowned at the eye bags on Tony’s face, but took the bag of arrows nonetheless. 

“No. But I got a lot of work done,” he said grimly, gingerly touching his puffy eyes with the pads of his fingers. “I’ve gotta go find Cap, know where he is?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in the gym,” Clint answered, still looking concerned. “And Tony?”

“Yeah? Need a new quiver or something, Katniss?”

“Get some sleep. You look like hell,” he said, instead of asking for something new. 

“I can’t. I just finished the team things, gotta work on the money-making projects,” Tony answered, already down the hall. “But thanks for the confidence boost, really makes me feel pretty.”

“Anytime!” Clint called out.

Tony smiled a bit to himself. At least Clint was friendly with him, he was probably the most easy-going guy in the tower. Everyone else hated him. Tony was too much of an asshole to befriend people, but Clint was also slightly an arse, so they worked fine together. Except when they didn’t.

“Oi, Capsicle!” Tony yelled into the gym change room. “I’ve got your suit ready. Come on out and get it!”

“I’m busy, Stark! Just leave it at the door!” Steve yelled from inside, probably taking a shower.

“Fine!” he yelled back with a tone of annoyance, and tossed the plastic bag with his suit in it on the bench, and headed out, chewing on his lip, eyebrows low.

Couldn’t even come out and see him, huh.

Tony walked back down to the kitchen, he plowed through the entire instant coffee container last night and still had quite a bit of work left for him. Natasha was fixing herself breakfast, or lunch, considering it was eleven AM. Brunch.

“You look terrible,” she said, flipping a pancake. She was wearing one of Tony’s aprons, the one that Rhodey got him as a joke. It had his face badly photo-shopped onto a chef, with the words Kiss the Cook underneath; Tony never cooked. He hardly ever ate. That was the joke.

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbled, taking out an instant coffee container, unopened and full, ready to provide temporary bliss. “JARVIS, order more instant coffee. There’s only two containers left.”

“Done, sir,” the AI replied obediently.

“When was the last time you slept?” she put a hand over the container, making him put it down. Tony raised an eyebrow at her antics, but she was too strong to fight. 

“I don’t know. Like, a few days ago,” he said, annoyed, wanting to just leave and go back to working. Everybody was asking if he slept or not. Did he really look that bad?

“He has not slept in seventy-two hours,” JARVIS said helpfully.

“Christ. You’re going to land yourself in a hospital,” Natasha frowned. “Go to bed.”

“Later. America’s Sweetheart has been at my neck to get all the team upgrades done, and now I’ve got to actually do things for the company,” he said, gently prying the container from her grip. “See you around.”

“Don’t pass out!” she called, maybe sort of not joking.

“No promises!” he yelled back.

\--

“Hey, JARVIS,” Tony asked, sitting back in his chair, the list getting smaller and smaller as the hours wore by. “How long until I do pass out?”

“You’ve got five hours.”

“And if I drink more caffeine?”

“Your body has ingested quite an amount of that drug. It is highly inadvisable to drink anymore,” his AI replied.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Two hours.”

“Wow, dammit. Why?”

“Your heart rate will become irregular and you will likely have chest pain, which will lead to unconsciousness.”

“Fantastic,” he said sarcastically, spinning around in his spinney chair.

“Steve Rogers is requesting to call you. Shall I put him through?”

“Yeah,” Tony waved at the AI to go ahead, folding his hands behind his head, and dreading what the Captain has to say.

Steve’s face appeared on the screen to his left, an image from one of the security cameras outside of the gym change room (putting cameras in change rooms were a big no-no. As much as Tony loved total security, it was illegal). He looked mad, his eyebrows turning downward, shadowing his eyes.

“What do you want?” Tony asked.

“Where’s my suit?”

“What do you mean, where’s my suit?” Tony sat up straight, alert, a questioning eyebrow raised.

“I told you to leave my suit in the change room, but it’s not there,” Steve frowned, gesturing behind him.

“I did leave it there!”

“Stark, I don’t have time for your bullshit. This isn’t a good prank,” he snapped.

“It’s not even a prank, Goddammit!” Tony yelled, rubbing his temples. “I left it there. I threw it on the bench.”

“Well, it’s clearly not there!” Steve yelled back.

“Calm your man tits, okay? I left it there. JARVIS, tell him I left it there,” Tony quipped.

“Sir did leave it there,” JARVIS supplied.

“Getting your AI to lie for you now? Where’s my suit?” Steve retorted.

“I told you, I left it there! On the bench!” Tony yelled. “JARVIS, where the heck is the suit?”

“It is currently in the possession of Clint Barton,” the AI said.

There was an awkward pause as the two felt bad for yelling, then confusion.

“Why the fuck does Clint have it?” Tony said, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose, a massive headache forming.

“It appears he wanted to play a prank.”

“JARVIS, end call,” Tony said, feeling a weight on his shoulders. Steve’s face disappeared from view. 

Tony leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his face with his hands. He was so tired, so tired of being accused of things, so tired of getting work done, but that was all he was good at. Working. 

“Incoming call from Clint Barton.”

“No. Don’t let him,” he said, and the call ended. “Mute all calls. Mute all noises. Lock down until I’m done this.”

“Sir, you have five hours until-”

“Yeah, until I pass out. And you know what? Good!” he interrupted sourly, pouring more coffee.

“Drinking caffeine-”

“I know!” he yelled, his hands shaking as he brought the cup to his lips. “I know.”

“It appears-”

“Mute,” Tony said, and the AI was silent. He silently drank the coffee, wanting nothing but sleep to overcome him, but he has to finish this. He has to finish the work, or else Pepper will be so mad, because he promised that the work would be done by tomorrow, but Steve pushed everything back. He just needed to finish this. Finish improving the update on the Stark phone and the other small but numerous projects, and finally, he could rest.

He felt his heart rate increase and his head was pounding with pain, but that was no concern now. He needed to get things done. He needed to work, or else Pepper will be mad.

And one more person mad at him would probably break him.

\--

Life isn’t hard.

Living is hard. Living is too hard. Living is so hard.

The action of living is too hard, it’s too much. The pounding away at machines, the heart beating under a rib cage, the lungs filling up and blowing out air, the walking, the talking, the living, it’s all too much. All too hard. Why can’t his heart just stop beating?

If all he’s good for is work, and even when he does work, it only gets people mad at him, then what’s the point?

Sure, it’s easy to have a life, but it’s even easier to let go.

“Call Pepper,” he said weakly. He took an hour long nap to push away the thought that he would pass out on his job, and when he unmuted JARVIS and asked when he would pass out, he still had a good twelve hours left in him.

“Calling Pepper Potts,” his AI said. “Connecting.”

“What do you want, Tony?” Pepper said, clearly tired. It was two AM, no wonder.

“I finished the work,” he said, his voice hoarse. He hadn’t said a word all day. He’s glad that it was an audio call, because he didn’t know if he could stand her looking at his face. Or the other way around.

“You’re two hours late,” she said, and he could hear the disappointment in her voice. “I’ve already pushed back the presentation. For the second time, must I remind you.”

Tony swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry.”

“You’re making the slideshow. I want nothing to do with this, okay? I’m embarrassed as is to represent you! They were mad at me, when you were the lazy one!”

“I’m sorry!”

“I thought I told you to prioritize this! Instead, you got your stupid Avengers work done first, you’re not even on the team! You’re a consultant!” she hissed. “I even gave you an extension! They’re pretty mad that you pushed back the presentation, and I’m sure they won’t be happy when they see you, so you better think up a plausible excuse. I’m tired of making excuses for you. You’re letting this all get to your head. You’re-”

“End call,” Tony said. 

Pepper’s voice abruptly disappeared, leaving Tony alone, silence surrounding him.

“JARVIS, mute everything. Yourself, too,” he said, falling back in his chair. He’d been sitting in the same place for nearly twelve hours. 

“Sir-”

“Do as I say,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please.”

Silence.

Tony let the shuddering breaths fall from his lips, the tears spilling over his eyelashes. He was just so, so, tired. So stressed. So done. He just wanted to die.

Living is so, so hard. Living makes him want to die. He can’t keep living.

All these people were asking him about upgrades, about things, demanding him to work. It’s okay. He loves working. Working is fantastic, it gives him something to do. So he’s not alone with his own thoughts. So he can create.

But working also means stress, and it’s about time he cracked. He can’t take this. It’s hard. Living is so hard. 

Dying is so easy.

It’s not like he lacked the necessary things to die. He could easily blast his neck with a repulsor, take some medicine from the high-end medical section he’s got in his workshop, choke himself with a gauntlet. He could easily rip out the arc reactor. Then it would all be over.

He let the thought plague him for a bit, letting the tears and misery wash over him, and his hands maybe danced around the reactor in his chest. 

And then he threw himself into his work.

He worked for hours, even though he was close to collapsing, even though he the whole reason he was in this situation was because he was working too much. He couldn’t stay alone with his thoughts this time, so he worked.

A distraction.

Pepper would kill him. 

He plunged his hand into a complicated part of machinery, searching for a wire, when a searing pain exploded on his arm. He reflexively pulled it out, scraping it again on the way back up, and winced when blood spilled over a deep cut on his forearm, running vertically.

Why did it feel okay?

It felt better than okay. The pain was cold and fresh, it felt like an ice cube on a hot day, it felt nice. It didn’t feel like pain. It felt welcome and overdue.

He shook his head; he knew what self-harm was, and he was never going down that path. 

But now he knows why people do it.

He bandaged the cut with butterfly clips, cleaning the blood out from the machinery and pulling out the sharp thing that had cut him. It was a loose piece of jagged metal, it must’ve fallen off of something. He threw it across the room and got back to work, welding, programming, typing, everything and anything to get rid of the intrusive thoughts, telling him that he’s good for nothing, that nobody would actually miss him. 

He fell asleep, finally, in a pile of metal and wires.

\--

“I’m kind of worried about you,” Rhodes shrugged. 

Rhodey had gone down to the workshop to visit his friend, and found him collapsed on the ground. After many assurances for JARVIS that he was okay, just sleeping, he just threw a blanket on his body and waited, staring at all of the inventions.

Tony woke up a few minutes later, with a jolt. Rhodey stared at him weirdly, but Tony brushed it off. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares, but Rhodes didn’t need to know.

“And why’s that?” Tony raised an eyebrow, pausing, looking up from his work.

“I don’t know, man. I just feel like you’re working too much. You should spend time with the team, they’re here for a reason,” Rhodey shrugged again.

“Yeah, to ask me for upgrades,” Tony said sourly, going back to typing his report.

“You should go up. Relax a bit,” he offered. “It’ll do you good.”

“I’ve already tried, and I got plagued with demands,” Tony said, standing his ground. “I’m better off down here.” 

“Don’t say that,” Rhodey pursed his lips, worried. “They like you.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he answered sarcastically, but stood up nonetheless. “I’ll go up, though, I’ve run out of things to work on.”

“What were you working on just now, then?” 

“My suit. Nothing important,” he nodded. “I’m trying to find a way to circulate air, sort of like synthetic photosynthesis. I’ve already made the product for another project Pepper had me do, but I’m trying to make it suit-compatible. Just so I don’t, uh, happen to run out of air in space. Just in case.”

“And this totally doesn’t have anything to do with New York?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow.

“Yup. Totally, totally hypothetical,” Tony gritted his teeth, staring longingly at his work.

The wormhole. He’d been working to forget, and working to make sure it would never happen again. That the suit wouldn’t shut down after being in deep space, that the connection wouldn’t be lost should he ever be that far into space, that he wouldn’t be so damn cold next time. If there was a next time. Heck, his suit would probably be his own little Quinjet by the time he’s done with the upgrades, complete with a nanotechnology lab built into the back or something. Actually, that would be quite useful, he just needed to master the use of that technology.

“Actually, I should work on it some more, like Cap said, we never know when we can get called in,” he changed his mind, sitting back down in his chair and pulling up a blank screen to type on.

“You’re a consultant. Get up, we’re going upstairs,” Rhodey pulled him up from his chair. 

“Make me coffee and I’ll think about it,” Tony groaned, standing up from the spot in chair shakily. 

“There’s coffee upstairs. Let’s go,” Rhodey slung an arm over his shoulders, and they made their way to the elevator. “You’ll tell me if anything was wrong, right, Tones?”

“Of course,” Tony confirmed. “You’re my best friend. My only friend, actually”

“Don’t say that. But if I hear I got replaced, I’m coming for you,” he joked, lightning up the air.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony laughed, elbowing his friend in the gut. “You’re the best I’ve got.”

The elevator opened on the communal floor, and Clint, Nat and Steve were practically having a meeting without him. Tony frowned a bit but it quickly turned into a small smile when they all smiled in his direction, even though it was more of an ‘I’m acknowledging you’ smile.

“What’s up? You having a family meeting? Should I leave?” Tony half-joked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and gratefully pouring the coffee that someone had made into it. He’d been living off of instant coffee for a while, so the change in quality was nice. 

“We’re deciding what movie to watch. We didn’t know if you’d come up or not,” Clint nodded. “Team bonding time. ”

“Right. Not on the team,” Tony said, sipping his coffee to hide the sourness he got from the words that left his mouth. “Where’s Brucie?”

“He’s busy. Wanna come watch? In fact,” Natasha glanced at the others, elbowing Steve in the gut. “We need you to break the tie.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Tony raised an eyebrow, putting the mug down. “If you forgot about me, it’s all good.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asked, confused, looking around. 

“There’s an uneven amount of people,” Tony pointed out.

Clint, Nat, and Steve all looked down sheepishly. 

“Is there anything you want me to work on?” Tony asked, tossing back the rest of the coffee as if he were taking shots. “I’ve got time.”

“I think we’re all good for now, right guys? You should join us, actually. We’re all long overdue for a movie and popcorn,” Nat tried again.

“Actually, my arrows-” Clint started, but Natasha elbowed him hard. “Ow.”

“It’s fine, Nat. Clint, what was it that you wanted?” Tony smiled weakly at him, pouring the rest of the coffee left in the coffee maker in his mug.

“Maybe like darts? They take up less space,” Clint muttered, clearly feeling guilty after Natasha’s reaction. 

“On it,” Tony nodded, ignoring how Natasha was now making cutthroat gestures at Clint.

“Tones,” Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder, seeing right through Tony’s passable face.

“Not now, Rhodey. I’ve got work to do,” he shook off his hand and headed away from the kitchen, and called the elevator.

That entire time, Captain America’s face held the same, blank expression. Like he didn’t care whether Tony was there or not. 

Nobody cared whether Tony was there or not. They didn’t even think about asking him. He didn’t know whether he would accept the movie invitation or not, but the fact that it took him actually showing up to remind them of his existence hurt. He had housed them, took them in, and they forgot about him.

“Tony, you can’t keep doing this,” Rhodey said worriedly, joining him in the elevator.

“You heard them. They didn’t even think about me. Hell, I think that if I hadn’t even shown up, they never would’ve given me a thought,” he said bitterly. 

Rhodey was always there. He could never hide from his best friend. He always saw right through him.

“Tony-”

“I’m just going to work on Princess Merida’s darts,” Tony put a hand up to interrupt him. “It’s fine.”

“You’re lonely, you’re not-”

“Rhodey, buddy,” Tony interrupted him again. “I know when people don’t want me. I lived with my dad, remember?” he spat out sourly. “They’re better off without me.”

“No. Stop saying these things, I’m getting worried,” Rhodey frowned. 

“Well, you’re the only one,” Tony sighed, and the elevator stopped on his floor. “Go join them. I think they like your company more than mine,” he said sourly, harshly, and turned his back, stepping out.

“Tony, you know I love you, right?” Rhodes said, holding the elevator.

Tony nodded. “Love you too.”

Rhodes must’ve been really worried. They leave the mushy-gushy sentiments for when one of them is near a mental breakdown, usually. Maybe this is one of the times.

The elevator doors closed, and Tony stared at the metal doors, at the numbers flashing, going up, finally stopping on the floor that they were just at.

He barely made it to his desk chair before he collapsed in it, sobbing, letting out the frustration of not being wanted, of not serving a use. The tears ran freely down his face without anyone else to see them, without any point in stopping them. He really wasn’t wanted. Nobody wanted him. Not even Pepper, who was terribly annoyed with him.

“Speak of the devil,” he frowned when a video call from her popped up. He wiped his tears, cleared his throat and threw on a pair of sunglasses to hide his red eyes. The call went through, and her face popped up on the screen.

“Did you get that speech prepared?” she raised an eyebrow, almost fully expecting the answer. She was already angry. Christ.

“What speech?” Tony sat up straight, glancing at the empty to-do list that was still posted. Nothing.

“For the presentation today! The one I had to postpone twice so you could get your lazy ass up and working!” she practically screamed.

“I finished the product!” he said, raising his voice, gesturing behind him to the rest of the work space, as if the product was behind him. “I upgraded it, I have the report written!”

“You were supposed to work on the presentation!”

“I made the product! I’m a billionaire, don’t we usually pay someone to do that?” 

“Yeah, me!” she yelled angrily. “I told you that I don’t want anything to do with this product! Yesterday morning!”

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to screw up sometimes?” he quipped back sarcastically. 

“You’re in charge of a billion-dollar company! You can’t screw up!” she screamed over him.

“I thought I made you CEO!” Tony yelled back, even though he didn’t know why he was so angry. Pepper was right. “You’re in charge of this!”

“Oh, so you think you can kick back and relax? Is that why you made me CEO in the first place?”

“I was dying when I made you CEO!”

That shut her up.

“Cancel the presentation. I won’t be there,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t even bother pushing it back.”

“So now you think you can just abandon the project altogether?” she hissed. “We invested time and money into this, I lost sleep over this, and you think you can just abandon it because you’re tired?”

“I’m not tired! I just won’t be able to write a whole frickin’ speech about a stupid machine!” he yelled. “I’m a mechanic, not an author!”

“Well, too bad! It’s not in our agreement for me to baby-sit you! And no, I’m not cancelling the presentation, I’m expecting you there at five with a thirty-minute slideshow! Happy’s picking you up at four!” she retorted. “Good bye!”

The video cut out. 

Tony threw off his sunglasses, throwing them in a corner of the room, and turned to his computer. He’d gotten two hours of sleep in four days, and he felt ready to pass out.

“Sir, I’ve opened the slide program for you and prepared some key points. I suggest getting started right away,” JARVIS informed him.

“Thanks,” Tony said softly, and began typing, tears flowing freely down his face as he did so. 

The last-minute touches and perfecting of the portable synthetic photosynthesizer were accompanied by a few bleeding scratches to his arms.

And they weren’t accidents.

\--

“Presenting Tony Stark of Stark Industries, with his product which will help with climate change and space exploration, a portable synthetic photosynthesizer!” 

Tony walked up to the stage, where the poorly done slides were projected onto the screen behind him. He waited until the applause died down, then grinned down at the many eager faces sat at the round dinner tables.

“Thanks for having me!” he smiled, tapping the portable microphone that was clipped onto his shirt. “My most sincere apologies for the delay, there were important matters to attend to,” he glanced over at Pepper, who was glaring at him. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “In this presentation we will be covering a few key points; what the problem is, what the solution is, my product, how it works, and how accessible it will be depending on the funding. So…”

As he talked through the slides, adding a few spontaneous jokes and playing up the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance at Pepper every few minutes. Or seconds. She held the same glare, stern eyebrows that never once softened. Even at the jokes that got a rumble of laughter from every audience member, she never let herself relax. If she wasn’t blinking every few seconds, he’d probably think she’d been replaced by a mannequin.

As well as the quick glancing at Pepper, he started noticing that he was feeling quite faint. Random dots of flashing lights, almost like fireflies, appeared in his vision, and he gripped the podium with both hands, his knuckles turning white. He was sweating, and prayed that the black jacket he was wearing hid that fact. As he reached the last slide, he internally let out a sigh of relief at the thought of sitting down. 

“If there are any questions, my business contact info is on the slide, as well as the contact information of our CEO, Ms Pepper Potts,” he smiled weakly. “I’ll also be around afterward, so feel free to come up and ask me anything. Thank you.”

The clapping resumed, and he stepped down from the stage, staggering over to his seat beside Pepper. He was breathing heavily at this point, and reached quickly for a glass of water.

“Did I do okay?” he asked Pepper carefully. She looked him over, as if surprised he was asking her something. Maybe she expected him to know she wasn’t talking to him, she hadn’t said a word since they both arrived.

“Decent,” she said curtly, glaring.

Tony nodded and turned his attention to the front, where someone was presenting her company’s product, an agreement between the countries of the world to reduce their carbon footprint. He was starting to feel guilty that he had to push back this meeting, which was clearly very important for all of the other companies. It was about slowing climate change and the carbon footprint, as the health of the Earth was quickly deteriorating.

He knew why Pepper was so mad, now. Nobody can postpone doomsday.

He bit his tongue, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea, and his chest grew tighter; every breath felt like knives. He was dizzier than he was up on stage, and he shakily put down the glass of water, nearly spilling it on the white tablecloth.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding, but I think I’m having a heart attack,” he whispered to Pepper, who turned to read his face.

“You’re not joking?” he asked, her glare turning into a worried expression.

He shook his head. His face was now as white as the tablecloth, pale and sweaty, and he was visibly shaking.

The audience started clapping as the presenter left the stage, and Pepper grabbed Tony’s sleeve to pull him into an empty hallway, just outside of the banquet hall that they were in. Tony slumped against the wall, loosening his tie.

“Should I call an ambulance? Is your reactor acting up?” she asked, undoing his tie and throwing it on the ground for the time being.

“I need the suit,” he said, gesturing into the banquet hall. “It’s in the suitcase.”

“I’ll be right back,” Pepper said, quietly entering the room and leaving Tony alone.

He quickly undid his white shirt, his fingers shaking and fumbling as he undid the buttons. He tapped his reactor once, twice, but it seemed to be working fine. He twisted it tighter just to make sure, and groaned when it caused a spike of pain to run up to his jaw.

“Suit,” Pepper said, reappearing, and Tony quickly opened the grey suitcase and let the suit materialize around him, breathing more heavily than ever.

“Check the heart, the brain, am I having a heart attack? Is the arc reactor working?” he asked his suit, collapsing on the ground. He was vaguely aware of Pepper tapping the metal, asking if he was alright.

“Sir, you seem to be suffering from exhaustion and caffeine overdose. Medical attention is advised,” his suit said. 

“Set route for Stark Tower,” Tony said, and took off, breaking through a window, not caring. He would pay for property damages.

He passed out mid flight.

\--

“Hey, easy does it,” Rhodes said, as Tony tried to sit up.

“God,” Tony whispered, holding his pounding head and falling back against the pillows. “What happened?”

“You came crashing through the med bay window, already unconscious,” he explained. “Dr Cho wouldn’t tell me what happened, but you needed to get your stomach pumped.”

“Ugh,” Tony groaned. “I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“Did you eat something funny at your presentation, or something?”

“Maybe. A mixture of that and stress,” he lied, sitting up slowly. “I should call Pepper.”

“She texted saying she was on her way,” Rhodey put a hand on him. “You should rest.”

“Yeah. In my own bed, though, I hate the hospital beds,” he ripped out the wires attached to him, ignoring the beeping. “Does the team know, or are they even aware?”

“We didn’t tell them,” Rhodey shook his head. “I can tell them if you want?”

“I don’t think they’d care,” Tony shrugged sadly. “I’m going to go sleep this off.”

“Do you need help walking, or..?”

“I’m okay. Thanks Rhodey,” Tony smiled at him, grateful for at least one person showing affection. Showing that they care. 

Rhodey brought him to the elevator nonetheless, worry etched into his eyes. It was almost like he knew what was happening in Tony’s brain, all the words screaming at him. That Pepper was mad at him for ditching. That the team doesn’t even care. Why should they? He’s really nothing.

Before Tony knew what was going on, Rhodes brought him into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly and securely around him. Tony would never tell him this, but he really needed it. It felt nice, after having so many people yelling at him, after having so many people annoyed with him, after landing himself in a hospital room.

“Thank you,” Tony said quietly into Rhodey’s chest.

“You call me. Anytime,” he answered, giving one last squeeze and letting Tony go. 

The elevator was too silent as he made his way to his bed, and he didn’t even bother changing out of his formal suit as he collapsed on top of his covers and slept the longest he had in the last ten years.

\--

“Here,” Tony gave Clint a new quiver, complete with darts and collapsible arrows.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, taking out one of the arrows. “How do these work?”

“Come down to the shooting range, I’ll show you,” Tony grinned, grateful to have someone to share his enthusiasm. He’d taken quite a liking to Hawkeye, who was always eager and sarcastic, and sometimes brutally honest.

“Wait ‘til I show the others!” Clint marveled, examining the levels of the arrow. 

“I’ve got other things for them too,” Tony smirked. “Call them, tell them to meet us at the shooting range.”

“I’ll see you there in ten. I just wanna get out of these,” Clint gestured at his sweats on sweats. “I’ll get the others.”

“See you there,” Tony waved, humming happily to himself.

He got into his private elevator, smiling slightly. He really, really enjoyed pleasing others, he liked seeing the smiles, happiness, after something he created. He had worked hard on things, lacking sleep and worrying Pepper, especially after the presentation incident, but he was proud. 

He walked into the backyard of the tower, where the targets were. The grass was green, the birds were chirping, and it was a clear day. One of Tony’s rare happy days. One of the rare days he was happy to be alive.

“Christ, man, what happened to your arms?” Clint arrived, pointing at the multiple bandages wrapped around Tony’s arms. 

Thankfully, he had prepared an excuse. A very plausible excuse.

“You try being elbow deep in electronics and not brushing up against a jagged piece of metal,” Tony rolled his eyes. “The amount of times your collapsible arrows had accidentally sprung up to full size while I was working on them nearly made me bleed to death.”

“You have got to show me how these work!” Clint grinned, taking his quiver off his back. “These look insane, and I can fit so many in my quiver now!”

“Well, hold on, Robin Hood, wait until the others get here,” Tony smirked at his excitement. “They are coming, right?” he asked in a small voice.

“Tasha’s coming, and- hey, there’s Cap!” Clint waved, and Steve Rogers ran in, smiling.

Goddamn that distressed button on his shirt. Tony swear Steve does that on purpose.

“Hey, Star-Spangled Banner,” Tony nodded his acknowledgement at him. “I’ve fully upgraded your suit. Bulletproof, flexible, even equipped with air conditioning.”

“You didn’t need to do all that,” Steve smiled, admiring the suit that Tony handed to him. 

“The suit was fun to work on, gave me a challenge. You see, these parts, like the chest and back, areas that don’t bend as much, they were easy to make bulletproof,” Tony explained, gesturing at the large areas of the suit. “But making bulletproof material near the joints was extremely difficult, as it’s not actually all that flexible, and I still wanted it to be light. So I gathered information from our training sessions, ran a few diagnostics, and came up with a few ideas. You seem to bend your arms and legs in very exquisite and difficult yoga positions, so taking that into account, I managed to create a sort of thin thread that I could use as fabric that was bulletproof. Using modern technology, I was able to get the metal that I use on my suit, that’s bulletproof, by the way, and thin it out using a sort of invention that doesn’t just slice through metal, and then laced it together like it was thread to make sure that it was flexible, but hardened when it came into contact with something. I sort of modeled it after oobleck, I don’t know if you know it, but it’s cornstarch and water mixed together, that’s neither a liquid or a solid. It was kind of difficult-”

“Alright, we don’t need to know your life story,” Natasha showed up, already looking annoyed.

“Oh. Right,” Tony nodded. “Anyway, Both of your suits now have full protection against your regular american pistol, and can break someone’s hand if they try and punch you. Like the thing I was talking about before! Have you ever made oobleck? Me and Jarvis used to make it when I was little, and it’s a very interesting phenomenon. Of course it’s not a phenomenon anymore, as I know exactly how it works, but it was very interesting when-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Captain America frowned.

“Right. I’ll shut up, now,” Tony chewed the inside of his cheek. “Anyway, get suited up, get used to it and tell me if there’s anything wrong with them, and I’ll show Clint his arrows.”

“Finally, man, I was wondering if I had to shoot you in the mouth to get you to get a move on,” Clint joked. 

A tiny bit of Tony doubted that he was joking. 

“So, Clint, have you ever had a toy light saber?” Tony asked, pulling one of the collapsible arrows out. 

“No?” Clint pulled a face.

“Oh. Well, there’s a toy, and when you flick your wrist, it would spring to its full size,” Tony flicked his wrist quickly and the arrow, originally the size of a dart, sprung up to a full-sized arrow. 

“Sick!” Clint grabbed an arrow and flicked his wrist quickly, and it sprung up.

“I studied the action that you use when you pull an arrow from your quiver, so just pulling it out should activate it and lengthen it. You should try it,” Tony said shortly, avoiding explaining too much as to annoy the one guy who seemed to stand him.

“This sounds like you’re talking about a dick,” Clint grinned, always cracking innuendos.

“Very funny. Try to act mature when you’re handling weapons, can’t have a ten year-old at heart shooting arrows,” Tony smirked. “Go ahead, the range is clear.”

Clint’s face changed from his joking face to his serious face, taking an arrow out of his quiver and flicking his wrist exaggeratedly, hitting himself in the face with the butt of the arrow, unfortunately slicing part of his cheek as the arrow activated and sprung out.

“Christ, I told you that I measured it to activate with your usual arm,” Tony said, catching Clint as he stumbled backward, blood dripping off of the side of his face. “You good?”

“Didn’t even sting,” he grimaced, bringing his sleeve up to his face to wipe off the blood.

“Barton, is that blood?” 

Tony felt his heart sink as he turned around, seeing Captain America all suited up, a stern look on his face. Of course.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scratch,” Clint smiled reassuringly at him. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve hurt someone with your inventions,” Steve glared at Tony. “Clint, put down those arrows. Nothing Stark gives you is safe.”

“Pardon the fuck me?” Tony grit his teeth and took a step toward him. 

“I mean, did you even test it at all before you gave it to him?” Steve yelled again.

“Of course I did! What do you think I am, some sort of idiot?” Tony spat.

“It cut clean through his cheek!”

“Is he dying? No! Scared of a little blood, America’s Sweetheart?”

“It could’ve been avoided!”

“He told me he wanted more portable arrows, so I made them! I’ve been doing everything for the team, and-”

“You’re not even on the team!”

“And rejecting upgrades will definitely help my case!” Tony yelled sarcastically. They were face to face now, and Tony had to stand on the tips of his toes to even reach his chin.

“Boys! You’re acting like children!” Natasha warned.

“Stark’s the child, he hurt Barton!” Steve retorted.

“I’m a fucking adult! I’m an adult!”

“Then act like one, and own up to your mistakes!” 

“The only thing that went wrong was that Clint flicked his wrist too hard! It wasn’t even anything serious!”

“It could’ve been! God, I don’t even know why I put up with you!”

“I house you! I feed you, I made a fucking bulletproof suit for you, I give everything for this team that I’m not even on and you’re saying that you have to put up with me?” 

Steve just glared at him, but Tony was fuming. 

“And they’re saying that I don’t play well with others,” Tony spat, turning promptly on his heel and storming off.

\--

“Tony, I want to talk to you.”

Tony looked up from his work. After yelling at Cap, four days ago, he’d shut himself in his lab and worked away. He had recently started a huge project, and he devoted most of his time to it. 

“What is it, Rhodey?” Tony asked, softening slightly. 

“Can you maybe shut off your work for this?” he shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. Tony waved his hand and all of the tabs he had open disappeared. 

Rhodey nodded and walked over to Tony, sitting in a chair across from him. “I don’t know the best way to say this, so I’m just gonna do it.”

“You’re scaring me, Rhodey-bear,” Tony raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking. 

“You’re not making it any easier,” he complained. 

“Spit it out.”

“Tony, are you, uh,” Rhodey hesitated. “Are you depressed?”

Tony raised his head a tiny bit, defensively. “What gives you that idea?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I don’t know, man, when we saw those kids who wanted your autograph the other day, you sort of just freaked out and ran away, and you’re shutting yourself in here, working on God-knows-what, and you’ve got-” Rhodey cut himself off, gesturing to Tony’s arms. “You’ve got cuts all over your arms, and I get you’re a mechanic, and sometimes accidents happen, but it’s never been this often before, and I don’t know, Tones, I’m just worried.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Tony said, putting on a small smile. “Trust me. I’m still a bit freaked out after New York, but that’s normal. And I’ve just been working on something that requires more effort, more time, and shoving your arms into deep machinery and piles of metal isn’t the safest thing, I get it, but it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just working.”

“Great. Okay,” Rhodey said, clearly uncomfortable. “You’ve been getting along with the team?”

Tony shrugged. “We’ve been better, but I’m handling it.”

“And you’ll come to me if anything was wrong?”

“You can count on it,” Tony smiled again. 

Rhodey couldn’t help the smile of relief that washed over his face.

“Now stop with this mushy-gushy stuff. You know I don’t do emotions,” Tony grinned, a teasing tone to his voice. 

Just go back to smirks and shits and giggles, and no one will suspect a thing.

“Never change, Tones,” Rhodey smiled at him. “Anyway, what are you working on?”

“Super important project. I have to prepare loads,” Tony reopened a few screens. Diagnostics on the towers. Energy levels for the next few decades. 

“I’ll leave you be, then?” Rhodey patted Tony’s knee and stood up. “I’ll catch you later.”

“You bet,” Tony smiled up at his best friend. 

Rhodey left the room, and Tony’s smile immediately vanished. He turned back to his screens.

His super important project was his preparation for when he finally died. His will. How long his company would last without him. Instructions on how to maintain Dum-E, Butterfingers, all of his tiny little robots. How to access JARVIS’ programming. A list of all of his passwords.

He kept typing away.

\--

“This is exactly why I don’t want him on the team.”

A voice stopped Tony in his tracks as he went to go get more coffee from the communal kitchen. He stayed in the hallway, stuck. His feet wouldn’t move.

“Steve, he’s a good guy-” Clint’s voice said.

“He’s selfish. He hurt you that day.”

“No, I just didn’t do as he said. That was my fault, with the arrows.”

“Clint.”

Clint was silent.

“He’s great in battle, we’ve already decided this,” a female voice said. Nat’s. “Iron Man yes. Tony Stark no.”

“So are we just going to get his suit to fly in for him?” Clint said angrily. “We need him.”

“This is a simple mission. We fly in, capture the guy, then come back. We don’t need another voice jabbering in our ears, bragging, talking about himself,” Steve said.

There was a silence.

“I guess you’re right.”

Another silence. Tony finally willed his feet to move, heading in the opposite direction, back to the computers and the typing and the work.

Time to finalize some documents.

\--

“Tony, would it kill you to take a break?” Pepper asked.

Tony’s expression softened a bit. “I’m almost done, Pep.”

“What are you working on?” she moved closer to the desk. Tony quickly closed a suspicious document and pulled up his AI’s codes.

“Reprogramming things. Writing things down. Super important engineering things you wouldn’t understand,” Tony gestured to the screen. He was erasing and creating new protocols for his AI.

“I understand more than you know,” she smiled softly. 

For a second, Tony thought she did. Not just about the whole programming and computer things, but that she understood him. God, she was perhaps the only person who came close.

“Take a break when you’re done, yeah?” She gently caressed his shoulder, leaning into him.

“The longest break I’ll ever have,” he said, somewhat truthfully. She looked confused at his choice of words, but he smiled reassuringly at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she turned to leave.

“Hey, Pepper?” Tony said, stopping her as she opened the door.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

If she says it back. One more day. Stay alive. One more day. If she says it back.

She smiled and shut the door softly. Without a word.

Tony nodded, biting his lip to hold it still, but it still quivered with unshed sobs. His heart was pounding too painfully in his chest, every breath felt like knives. He still felt comfort in the fact that soon, it will all be over. No more breathing. No more pretending.

The team was better off without him, they made that clear. Even Clint Barton, whom Tony considered a close acquaintance, still ended up admitting it in the end. No one wanted a loud, braggy, selfish person in their lives. Why would the team be any exception? Sure, relationships change when they save their world together, but the team was off without him, so Tony didn’t matter. 

Rhodey was always there, but Rhodey was blind. Rhodey questioned, but Rhodey didn’t figure it out. God, Rhodey. So oblivious, but most days he seemed like the only one who cared, the only one who came after him to see if he was okay. He was there for his first panic attack, there for the lowest times in Tony’s life, and Tony loved him with all of his heart. They were best friends. It would probably hurt Rhodey, but he’d get over it. He always did. He’d seen war and rage and death on a daily basis back when he served the country, and still seemed unfazed. Surely, surely, he could get over the death of his friend. He’d seen worse.

But Pepper. Oh God, Pepper. The only person he’d truly regret leaving. She was his anchor, his universe, and he wasn’t one for romance. But she was his world. Call it Petrarchan literature, call it cheesy, but she was his everything. He loved her. He wanted nothing but to crawl into bed beside her and pour his heart out, get a hug, maybe, but no. Stark men were made of Iron. They couldn’t just let their guard down just because of supposed love.

It had to be this way.

Tony looked up at the ceiling, his eyes red and teary, looking more of a mess than anyone had ever seen him. 

“JARVIS, activate protocol Goodbye,” Tony said softly, weakly, standing up to get a bottle of Vodka and Xanax pills.

“We’ll miss you,” JARVIS said. Tony had temporarily disabled the ‘common sense’ part of his AI, so JARVIS wouldn’t call anyone. The Goodbye protocol would reinstall the common sense part after six hours.

“No you won’t,” Tony said, and popped open the childproof cap. He stumbled with the cap a bit, a couple pills spilling around him, but he didn’t care. He poured the bottle down his throat, then took a couple swigs of Vodka, straight from the bottle, to wash down the pills.

“To life,” Tony raised the bottle as if he was toasting, staring out the window of his workshop, the stars bright and twinkling, contrast to the darkness of the sky. He downed half of the bottle, smiling slightly as a wave of tiredness washed over him and he fell down, slumped against the floor-to-ceiling window. 

The bottle left his grip, smashing into a million pieces beside him. 

Tony smiled. Soon he’d be at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, you guys are the best.
> 
> Thank you so so so much for the comments, I was definitely not expecting them to be so kind and full of angst.
> 
> Here is the highly demanded sequel, ft Rhodey being a good bro because I really admire their friendship.
> 
> (also I hate Marvel for far from home I watched it yesterday and I cried and fuck the credit scene like give the kid a break)

“Nat, get your ass over here. Clint, call the medic team. Bruce, stay out of this, we don’t want you hulking out.”

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked into the comms. He was on the medical team for the mission that they were called on, so he was wondering why he couldn’t go see what was wrong.

“It’s Stark.”

Clint’s heart rate sped up, and he quickly pressed the button on his wrist that called for medical assistance. He knew the tracker would alert them of his location, so he quickly climbed through the vents into Stark’s laboratory.

“Is Bruce out of the way?” Cap asked, once Clint had landed softly on the ground in the lab, nearly tripping over a few pieces of metal and a pile of wires. 

“I don’t know. I came straight here,” Clint said, kicking the wires aside and looking up. What he saw made his blood run cold.

“Shit, man,” Clint swore, sprinting over to Cap’s side, collapsing on his knees. Tony was lying on the ground, a broken bottle of Vodka next to him, the shards everywhere. His arc reactor was flickering, having nothing to power. Around his eyes was yellow, and he was deathly pale. Clint quickly checked to see if he was breathing by holding a hand in front of his mouth, and thankfully there was a shallow hiccup of a breath, quiet and small.

“Natasha,” Clint said into his comm. “Guide the medical team here. Minus Bruce. You won’t like this.”

“What happened?” came Natasha’s reply. Bruce was protesting in the background, wanting to know what happened to his friend.

“There’s alcohol and pills on the floor, doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Hurry!” Clint barked, looking wildly at Steve, for him to do anything, for him to react, for him to help, but he just sat there, unmoving, with a blank expression on his face.

“Bruce heard you! Private comms, Barton!” Natasha yelled sharply, and there was a distant roar of the Hulk in the tower. “Medical’s on their way.”

“Quickly!” Clint said, then slapped Steve in the face to get him to snap out of it. 

Steve jumped, looking up at him with different eyes; now they were full of surprise and confusion, a difference than what his expression usually was.

“Weren’t you in the army?” Clint glared accusingly at him. “Do something.”

“That was nearly a century ago,” Steve hissed, but he grabbed Tony’s wrist to check his pulse nonetheless, horrified to feel scratches on the skin underneath his sleeves. “Get the pill bottle, and the pills on the ground. Gather the label from the alcohol if you can piece them together. They’ll need to know how much he took.”

Steve ripped Tony’s favourite Black Sabbath shirt off of him, tossing the torn fabric aside. He then stared helplessly at his bare chest, the arc reactor flickering, the chest rising and falling too subtly to be healthy. He couldn’t do CPR if Tony was still showing signs of life, and he didn’t even know if he could do it without breaking every single one of his ribs with his super-strength. He just rolled him into recovery position and prayed that the glowing thing in there would keep him alive.

Captain America was at a loss.

The rest was a blur; the medical team arrived and carried Tony away, shoving activated charcoal down his throat, and the Avengers were sent back on their mission (minus Bruce, who was hulking out in the hulk room). 

But nobody could shake off what they had seen.

\--

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him smile. Like a genuine smile,” Natasha remarked sadly.

Their mission debrief wasn’t filled with talk about the battle; it was mostly Stark. Sure, there was the mandatory ‘what could we have done better?’ But after that, nobody could talk about anything else.

Natasha was accepting it, she basically already thought he was dead. Clint was teary-eyed, although he didn’t let one tear spill over. Steve was in denial. He kept trying to convince the others as well as himself that the pills and alcohol, it was all an accident.

“We don’t know if it’s a suicide. He could’ve just been drunk, then took too many pills,” Steve offered, a hand supporting his face. He was tired; they all were.

“C’mon, don’t be stupid,” Clint frowned, wiping his eyes as subtly as he could on his (waterproof) jacket. “Stark’s too smart to just… accidentally overdose.”

“We don’t know,” Steve said thoughtfully, still trying to bring hope.

“No, Clint’s right,” Natasha supplied unhelpfully. “You don’t know him like we do.”

“And how’s that?” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“You know Iron Man, not Tony Stark,” Natasha said. 

“And there’s a difference?” Steve asked, standing up from his uncomfortable office chair at the head of the table.

“Yeah,” Clint said, as if it was obvious, glancing at Natasha like they shared a secret.

“He said it himself; ‘the suit and I are one’,” Steve quoted. “Iron Man is Tony Stark.”

“He was also in front of a million cameras, on live television, and his company and suit were on the line,” Natasha pointed out, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

“Don’t act like you knew him better,” Cap said angrily.

“We knew that he was more than a machine! Which is more than you can say,” Clint spat, seeing Cap’s angry comment as permission to get angry. “You kept drilling requests into his head, you didn’t try-”

“Oh, don’t act like you were suddenly best friends!” Steve shouted. “You ordered him around just as much as I did!”

“I gave him time! I told him that he could do it when he had time!” Clint said with an equal tone of voice, standing up. “You told him that we were more important, and guess what, Steve Rogers? He has an entire company to run too!”

“You seemed pretty keen on leaving whenever he was in the room!”

“Because you were there, and it made me uncomfortable whenever you two were in the same room together! Waves of angst were practically radiating-” 

“That’s a pretty terrible excuse, Barton, and-”

“Boys!” Natasha warned, pulling Clint back as he made a move to advance on Steve.

“Don’t pretend like you were his friend either, Miss ‘Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no-’”

“The phone is ringing. Once you stop squabbling at each other like seagulls, we can answer it,” she hissed, and all the attention was directed toward the phone on the table.

Natasha let go of Clint once satisfied that he was not going to jump anyone, and answered the phone, putting it on speaker and setting it in the middle of the table.

“You’re on speaker,” she gave a warning as a greeting.

“Hey, it’s Bruce,” came Bruce’s timid, unfortunately shaky voice. “I just wanted to let you know that Tony pulled through.”

“They found out what happened?” Steve asked, putting both hands on the table to keep him from keeling over. 

“It was pretty obvious. I went to go clean up the lab after I had finished, you know, hulking, and he had files open, they were all labeled clearly, and there were blueprints and things laid out on his desk, all filed under names. Honestly, even an idiot could have navigated around. He made it easy,” Bruce explained, trying to keep steady but his voice kept wavering. “He even made a list of passwords. Instructions. How to keep his business running,” Bruce swallowed harshly. “It was definitely no accident. He’d been planning this for a while.”

His words were met with silence. The air felt heavy.

“You can visit him if you’d like. He’s unconscious but stable,” Bruce continued, stronger, after having a moment to recollect himself. 

“Alright. Thanks, Banner, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” Steve said, sitting back down, because God, was he light-headed.

“Okay. And be kind to Pepper, she’s not taking this too well,” Bruce added. “We’ll see you at the hospital?”

“See you,” Clint nodded, and ended the call. 

The room was met with a heavy silence that nobody wanted to break. Steve thought he was gonna pass out. He nodded to himself, feeling guilt pile in his stomach, then pointed to the doors leading outside. “I need some air.”

“We’ll meet you at the car in ten,” Natasha stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Alright,” Steve waved them off, then slid open the sliding glass doors leading to a balcony. He sat down on one of the plastic chairs, overlooking the city.

He had known.

Steve had been there during one of Tony’s nightmares. He had passed out on the couch, and as soon and he started whimpering, Steve had left. He didn’t know how to deal with it. He had also noticed that he wasn’t eating. They didn’t have team dinners anymore, so nobody was able to make sure he was eating, which meant that he didn’t. He had noticed how much weight he’d lost, how empty his eyes looked behind those stupid glasses he wore. 

Steve had known. And as much as it pained him to admit, he knew he was part of the cause.

\--

Pain.

The first thing that Tony felt. Pain and a thumping in his chest that felt like an impostor, that felt out of place, because his heart wasn’t supposed to be beating. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be feeling right now. He’d made sure of it.

And yet here he was, in pain, a needle shoved in his hand, pads strapped onto his chest, a steady but rapidly increasing beeping sounding from one of the machines. His heartbeat, he realized. Goddammit. 

“Tony, Tony, it’s okay,” a female voice cooed, putting a hand over his chest, over his heart. Her warm hands heated his cold body, warmth spreading from her fingertips to his heart, calming the heart rate down, the beeping from the machine slowing down. “You’re okay.”

He tried to open his eyes, but they were stuck; he was paralyzed, even. He couldn’t move any of his limbs, they felt so heavy. His head was pounding in time with the beeping. He seemed to be breathing like a machine, as he couldn’t hold his breath. It was like being inside an iron lung, the ones that breathe for the patient when they had polio or some sort of lung paralyzation. Was he paralyzed? He couldn’t move. The machine was breathing for him, everything was doing things for him. He couldn’t have that. He needed control, he was out of control, things were making him do things he didn’t want to do, he needed control-

“Shh,” the same voice said, rubbing her fingers over his forehead, massaging it as if she knew it was pounding. “Calm down.”

“Pepper?” Tony croaked out, finally finding strength to open his eyes and move his lips. Her blurry face refused to focus, and all he could see were her eyes; bright blue, but sad. Sad eyes. They shouldn’t be sad.

“I’m right here,” she said, and the rest of her face swam into focus. The softly smiling lips, pulled gently from the corners. The worry lines around her eyes. That worried him. Why was she sad? 

“Why… sad,” Tony asked weakly, bringing his hand up to his chest to grip hers, and Pepper turned her hand so that her palm was facing his, and she laced in fingers into his. She knew it relaxed him. She knew too much.

“Because you’re sad,” she said, her eyebrows knitting together, but she still kept that same worried smile. And the sad eyes. 

“Stop… the eyes,” he mumbled, loopy, bringing a hand up to her face to touch her cheek. Just to make sure she was real. Because sometimes when he feels like this, they’re not real.

“What do you mean?” she asked, going from sad to confused to sad again.

“Sad eyes,” Tony said. “Better… confused.”

He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the sad eyes. The sad blue eyes that were sad because of him. He was sad. That made her sad. He can’t be sad anymore because then he’d have to stare at the sad blue eyes forever. And if she was sad, then he is sad, then she is sad, then he is sad…

“It’s a cycle,” Tony frowned, eyes still closed because if he opened them, the sad eyes would be there, and then he would have sad eyes.

She can’t ever see his sad eyes.

\--

“It lives.”

“Rhodey…”

“Seems like you’re doing better than before. Pepper told me you were talking about how her eyes were sad,” Rhodey allowed himself to smile. “Remember when you would come back drunk or high out of your mind, and you would talk about the weirdest things?”

“Wasn’t my fault you called yourself a platypus when I was drunk.”

“Wasn’t my fault you were drunk,” he poked him in the chest, and Tony flinched when he touched the arc reactor, but quickly passed it off as bringing his hands up to support his upper weight as he slowly sat up.

“Yeah, well, better drunk than this,” Tony sat with his legs dangling from the side of the bed. “When can I leave?”

“You’re supposed to be in bed rest. Lie down,” Rhodey tried to push him back down, but Tony resisted.

“I’m not tired. I slept well. Very well, considering it was a self-induced sleep,” Tony stretched a bit, cracking his back. “Who found me?”

“Cap.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey bit his lip, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “He wants to see you.”

“Tell him his presence is never welcome,” Tony quipped. “He’s got the nerve to insult me, then break into my work area? Tell him to fuck off.”

“I’m not doing that, Tony, he’s worried about you, okay? If he didn’t care, he would’ve just left you,” Rhodey switched from his joking self to his ‘serious friend mode’, as Tony called it once when he stumbled into Rhodey’s room, high on cocaine.

“How did he find me? Like I’m genuinely curious. I had everything planned out. Why am I alive?” Tony said angrily, balling up the sheets in his fist, clenching it to relieve some stress. “I planned it perfectly.”

“That’s your problem!” Rhodey said, raising his voice, but not quite sounding angry. “You keep thinking that we don’t care about you, that you don’t actually like, mean something in our lives, you keep saying these things and that’s why we send people to check on you, and that’s why I actually convinced Steve to allow you to come on a mission, and that’s why he was able to override the lock on your door!”

“So it’s your fault then,” Tony turned, relaxing his fist, but turning to glare at Rhodey.

“Dude, I thought you’d be happy! That’s why I asked him to include you on a mission!” Rhodey argued back, but there wasn’t any bite in it. He looked worried. Sad. Damn those sad eyes that everyone has.

“Yeah, I’d be grateful any other day,” Tony said bitterly. “Fine. Tell him to get his stars and stripes boxers over and if he’s not here in two minutes, the window of opportunity has closed.”

“If I hear raised voices I’m sedating you,” Rhodey warned, standing up from his chair.

“Oh, please do. With the good stuff. Carfentanil. The stuff that knocks out elephants,” Tony said, waving Rhodey off. “Go.”

Rhodey left, and Tony took advantage of the unsupervised time to rip off the pulse detector on his fingers, the pads that measured the activity in his body, but left the IV alone. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he took it out, and if he did it wrong, an air bubble could travel through his vein and stop his heart. 

Which is kinda what he wanted, but not here. That would just cause a mess and cause more sad eyes, which isn’t what he wanted.

“Hey,” Cap said softly, shutting the door and sitting down in the black plastic chair positioned by his bed. He was still in his uniform, probably just returning from the mission they went on, judging by how sweaty and bloody he looked.

“What did you want to tell me?” Tony said, tired of him already, just wanting to get to the point and be done with it.

“I just wanted to know why,” Steve said, looking at Tony in the eyes.

Sad eyes. Sad blue eyes. Why was Steve sad? He literally didn’t care, as established before. Tony just wanted the sad eyes to stop, he wanted to get out and throw himself in his work so that he couldn’t see anybody’s sad eyes. So that nobody could see his sad eyes. Maybe he was still a bit high off of the medicine they had given him.

“Tony?” Steve said, getting his attention, and Tony snapped back into reality.

“You want to know why?” Tony started off, angrily. “Well, it could be the fact that the team is piling requests on me. It could be the fact that I don’t sleep. It could be the fact that I overheard you guys talking about how you don’t want me. It could be the fact that I’m still getting nightmares from stupid New York. It could be that fact that you, Stephen Rogers, don’t even care until I actually make an attempt on my own life.”

Steve was silent, and even though Tony gave him loads of material and an opportunity to defend himself, he didn’t rise to the bait; in fact, he just sat there, the blue eyes getting sadder and sadder.

“Or it could be a chemical imbalance in my brain, either or,” Tony added, looking away from him because STOP WITH THE SAD EYES.

“So it is my fault,” Steve said softly, barely audible.

That felt like a punch to the gut for Tony, even though he knew he clearly implied that in his rant. He turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what you think?”

“I know I haven’t been the nicest, and I probably should’ve gone after you, especially since I notice things. You haven’t been sleeping. You wake up screaming when you do sleep. You get angry all the time and I’m probably not helping,” he explained, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes. “I didn’t want you to come on the mission because I knew you were a mess, but Rhodes convinced me to get you.”

“Sure sounds like you were worried about me, with all the ‘we don’t need another voice jabbering in our ears, bragging, talking about himself’,” Tony quoted. 

Those words had hurt. They had stuck in his brain until the very end, and now it wasn’t even the end. He should’ve died. He tried to die. He did his very best to make sure everything was in order, and he survived. He really needs to talk to JARVIS when he gets back, and rewrite a couple hundred protocols for him.

“That was a mistake,” Steve sighed. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“So had you known, you would’ve spoken differently?” Tony hissed. “This is what talking behind other people’s back means. And guess what?” Tony opened his arms, as if to say, ‘look at me’. “There are consequences!”

“Tony-”

“Get Rhodey and then get out of my life. I don’t want to hear it,” Tony spat, ripping the IV out, not caring anymore. 

“You should probably keep that in,” Steve frowned at the small bit of blood falling from his hand where the needle had been, onto the white sheets of the hospital bed.

“Rogers. Go,” Tony said with gritted teeth. 

Cap left the room, flashing those Goddamned sad eyes as he left. Tony fell back against his pillows, covering his face with his hands, blocking out the light and trying to get those sad eyes out of his memory, because he’s sick and tired of people being sad for him. He’s tired of people looking at him with pity, because he’s sick in the brain and he’s worthless and he’s a mistake.

“Tony? You okay?” Rhodey’s familiar voice said, and Tony took his hands off his eyes.

“Ah, good. Did you bring the carfentanil?”

\--

Tony was discharged from the Medbay a few hours later with a promise to eat and sleep, and that’s just what he did.

Pepper never left his side, even when Tony verbally told her to ‘fuck off, I’m okay’. She sat in the comfy chair in their bedroom, reading, as he slept. The first sleep had been broken, delusional and full of nightmares, but the second time he closed his eyes after having a quick meal was heaven. He slept for twelve hours, and it was full of dreamless blackened comfort, no voices, no nightmares, no feeling. Just what he had wanted.

He woke up still tired, but he rolled over just to make sure that Pepper was there. And she was, her book in her hands, her eyes up and staring at him questionably. 

“That’s what death is like,” he said clearly, without context, then rolled back over and closed his eyes. He slept for another two hours before the sun was too much and he was forced to open his eyes, as behind is eyelids were red and orange and it reminded him too much of how his brain was on fire.

“Pepper?” Tony asked, still blinded by the sudden light. 

“What is it?” she said back, standing in front of the blinds, blocking the light, but she looked like an angel. The light shone from behind her back and the dust particles were dancing in the sunlight and God, she was beautiful.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said plainly, reaching out to grab her, and he met his outstretched hand with her hand, lacing their fingers together just the way that he liked it, and before he felt ashamed that she knew that it calmed him down, but now he’s just grateful. Grateful that she is still here, grateful that she cares, grateful that his feelings aren’t unrequited and that she loves him even though she didn’t say it that one night and he loves her so much and-

“Why are you crying?” Pepper asked, brushing her hand across his face, and Tony’s startled a bit, because he didn’t even realize he was crying. He doesn’t cry. Stark men don’t cry.

But Pepper’s not going to hit him, Pepper’s nice. She made him feel wanted, loved, like he wanted to live another day. Pepper is the one, the best thing, the most important thing that has ever happened to him. 

“I love you,” he answered.

Pepper doesn’t even have to say it back. Pepper had different ways of letting him know that she loved him, a subtle smile that she reserved just for him, a simple gesture like holding hands because she knew that he liked it. She put up with him because she loved him, and even when she acted mad, like at the presentation, she still had his back and she still worried and that was why she had the sad eyes. Because she loved him.

“I love you too,” she said, and kissed his temple. She lied down beside him, wrapping him in her arms, and Tony heard her heartbeat, and he heard his heartbeat, and they were matching. They were beating together. Like they were one person.

For the first time in a long time, he’s content with the idea that his heart is still beating.

\--

“Get out. This is the last thing you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I’m working, Dammit!” Tony yelled, pushing Cap off of him. “JARVIS, how’d he get in here?”

“He overrode the lock,” JARVIS said. “I deemed it necessary to allow him in given certain recent events.”

It’s been a few days since he was hospitalized, and he went back to work as soon as they gave him the all-clear; he’d filed away all of the documents he had made before (not deleted them, because you never know), updated JARVIS and ran diagnostics on everything, and once all that was done, he went back to working on the nanotech.

His work space was a mess; there were empty mugs placed on random surfaces, papers scattered everywhere, tabs open that had no relevance to what he was working on, and wires and metal on the ground. Steve had to tiptoe to get to Tony, trying to avoid stepping on anything.

“I’m rewriting almost all of your protocols,” Tony hissed, then turned to Steve. “What do you want?”

“Thor’s here. Pizza and a movie night. Come on,” Steve grabbed him by his shoulders and lifted him out of the chair.

“Just because I forgave you for being a dick doesn’t mean I won’t summon the suit on you,” Tony wrenched himself out of his grip. “I can walk.”

“Then go,” Steve said, his lightheartedness vanishing when Tony snapped at him. 

Tony mumbled obscenities under his breath, but made his way to the common room nonetheless, under Steve’s close watch. It seemed he was always under surveillance. Tony pretended to not hear thumping in the vents above his workshop (the only way to enter it without overriding the locks or triggering an alarm), he pretended not to notice Natasha’s eyes going straight for his arms to make sure there weren’t any new bandages whenever they saw each other, he pretended he didn’t notice Bruce’s attempts to try and talk to him, to try and program a new protocol for JARVIS that would warn him if Tony did anything stupid, and he pretended that he was asleep whenever Steve came up and asked Pepper for reports on Tony’s progress (in their bedroom, in front of him no less, like if they were going to talk about him, do it somewhere else).

It was annoying, to say the least.

“Hey, Pepper,” Tony said, collapsing on the couch and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Anything good on?”

“We’re setting up a movie,” she smiled at him. She did that way too often now. Smiling. Along with hushed voices and too many reassurances. 

“Man of iron!” Thor boomed, walking into the kitchen with three beers in each hand. “I heard about your predicament, my many apologies that I was not there for you,” he went to give Tony a beer, but Pepper took it from him to save Tony from explaining that he doesn’t like to be handed things.

“Thanks for the condolences, big guy,” Tony said grimly, going to take the beer from Pepper, but she held it away from him.

“I really don’t think that you should be drinking while on medication,” Pepper said disapprovingly.

“Who says I’m taking the medication?” Tony smirked, taking the bottle anyway.

Pepper raised an eyebrow, and gave him a look that read ‘we’ll talk about this later.’

Tony grabbed the bottle-opener from the table and opened the beer, drinking the bitter liquid but enjoying it all the same. Pepper’s been monitoring him, not letting him drink, so this was the first alcoholic beverage he had since that night.

“Hey,” Natasha said, landing on the couch beside Pepper. Her eyes flickered down to his wrists, then when satisfied, she grinned up at him. It may have only been a millisecond, but Natasha really needed to work on being subtle about it.

“Beer?” Tony asked, raising his up as if to demonstrate. He knew the answer already, but it felt weird not to offer anyway.

“I don’t drink beer,” Natasha shook her head, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Clint should be back with the pizza in a few.”

“What did you order?” Rhodey asked, sitting beside Tony and looping an arm around his shoulders. He showed affection way more now. Everything is different.

“Hawaiian, because I know how much you boys enjoy pineapple on pizza,” Natasha smirked at their disgusted expressions. “And stuffed-crust cheese pizza, and pepperoni.”

“And crazy bread,” Steve pointed out, taking a sip of beer, even though he didn’t get drunk. He couldn’t. His metabolism prevented him from doing so. Why was he drinking? He’d verbally said that he hated the taste of beer, and part of Tony wondered if he was only drinking because Tony was drinking.

“And crazy bread,” Natasha confirmed. “What do you plan on watching? A drama, horror movie- Christ, Thor, what are you doing?”

“Ah, yes. The three genres. Drama, Horror, and Thor, what are you doing,” Tony smirked, watching Thor guzzle down two beers at once. 

“Drinking,” Thor answered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he was doing.

“If only, if only,” Tony sighed, staring at Thor with fake wistfulness. Pepper slapped his shoulder to get him to stop.

“If High School Musical isn’t on, I’m disowning you all,” Clint said, arriving with three boxes of pizza and a bag. 

“You want to watch a stupid musical?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “One for kids?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not a seven year-old at heart,” Clint punched Tony in the shoulder, setting the boxes down at the table. “There any beer left or did Thor take it all?”

“There’s some in the fridge. Probably,” Natasha opened up the box of cheese pizza. “Any objections to High School Musical?”

“Are you serious?” Tony threw his arms up in exasperation. “You drag me from my work to watch Zac Efron pretend to be a teenager?”

“C’mon, man,” Rhodey nudged him. “It’ll be fun!”

Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “JARVIS, you heard ‘em.”

The opening scene rolled, and even with Clint’s interesting singing and Thor’s unnecessary commentary, Tony admitted the movie was pretty good. 

\--

Stupid thoughts.

Tony couldn’t get it out of his head.

Pity. The whole team just felt pity. Weeks before, they wouldn’t even be in the same room as him. Weeks before, they forgot about him. Weeks before, they didn’t even care. 

So why should they now?

Tony sat up. Pepper had shoved him to bed after the movie ended, even though it was only nine, then went back downstairs as she still had about two hours to go before she finished her work. He was alone, staring at the drawn curtains. Night time was always the worst, because there were barely any distractions, and it used to be fine because he shut himself in his work, but he couldn’t now. Pepper would kill him, and Clint was patrolling the vents. He had installed a sensor in them when Clint was away on a mission, and now there was a tiny alert that notified him whenever somebody entered. 

He had fun. He was happy, with the movie. Why did he feel so sad now?

He threw off the covers, getting dressed back in his jeans. He couldn’t sleep, may as well do something productive. He could sit in the common area and do work or something, anything other than lay here in the dark, overthinking things. 

He debated calling Rhodey, asking him for company, but decided against it. He would just be sad, and Tony was tired of seeing everybody’s sad eyes. They were all so cautious around him. All of their words came out carefully, as if they had gone over what they were going to say in their heads before saying them. They carefully avoided the word ‘death’, or anything to do with dying. Heck, they even avoided saying ‘hospital’ or ‘medic’ if they could help it.

He walked into the elevator and pressed a button, in a daze. Sure, he was glad that the team was now making an effort to include him, but it’s all out of pity. They felt nothing for him. They just wanted him alive for the tech and the support, a place to live. But they could live here without him. He specifically wrote in one of the many documents he created that they could live in the tower as long as they wanted, as long as it was still standing.

The doors opened, and he found himself on the roof. When did that happen? Nevertheless, he made his way forward and sat down on the ledge, peering down below. The height made him dizzy, and he almost fell forward, but he pushed himself back at the last second, his heart pounding.

He was still human. He could still die. Everyone else treated him like a robot, but he was still human.

Maybe he was a robot. It felt like it sometimes. No emotion, just getting along with the day, not even hungry or tired. He felt automatic, like someone had programmed him to do these things, and that’s what he must do. He must work for the team. He must do everything for the team. He must help run this company, help work on things. 

He was pretty much half-robot anyway. He needed an arc reactor to function. A battery. Pepper once told him that not everyone ran on batteries, and that’s where he’s special. Because he does. He’s a robot, he doesn’t have feelings, and he can’t actually physically feel anything now because his hands have gone cold and numb from panic.

He didn’t usually get cold. Clint once popped popcorn on his arc reactor, so it’s pretty much a microwave heating up his body. But tonight, the breeze just blew straight through his clothing, making him shiver, his teeth chatter. He was cold. Freezing, even; it was mid-November. And his hands. Hard to hold on. Hard to feel anything. They felt light, airy, and heavy at the same time, they were freezing and felt like giant gloves. What was with his extremities always getting so cold whenever he panicked?

The door to the roof opened and Tony froze, turning around quickly, but visibly relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey said softly. “Bruce told me you were up here. Felt that he wasn’t the best for this job.”

“How did Bruce know?” Tony asked with a bit of an edge, turning back to face outward, to the city below him.

“JARVIS.”

“I thought I deleted all of the protocols Bruce put in place,” Tony frowned.

“Either you missed one, or JARVIS told him on his own,” Rhodey sat down beside him. “I’ve been back for two weeks and you’re already on the roof again.”

Tony didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands. His hands that were slowly becoming less cold. Rhodey made things okay. He was his best friend. He had never betrayed him before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, keeping close to Tony in case he needed to grab him, blocking the wind that made him shiver.

Tony hesitated, opening his mouth, but deciding against it. Rhodey doesn’t need to know.

“C’mon, man. I know you. You trust me, yeah?” he pressed, nudging Tony lightly. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just feel like they’re all doing this because they’re told to. They’re all so careful. All conversation always stops whenever I enter a room, and they’re all spying on me, and I just want everything to go back to normal,” Tony blurted out, his hands shaking. He hid them in his lap so Rhodey wouldn’t see.

“Isn’t it better this way?” Rhodey asked, confused. “They’re including you. They care.”

“I know I’m selfish, and I’ve got the media to tell me that,” Tony snapped. “I don’t need you reminding me.”

“It’s not that, okay?” Rhodey frowned, trying to figure out the best way to say it. “It’s just… they care. They cared before, just now they’re better at expressing it.”

“But they didn’t!” Tony protested. “They didn’t care. And it always seems so forced, all of their kindness, and Nat’s always stopping me, telling me that I matter or something. That’s not the Natasha I know! The Natasha I know is an assassin who doesn’t give a shit about anyone.”

“Maybe she’s just as good as you at keeping an image,” Rhodey said softly, refusing to raise his voice. “She has her secrets.”

Tony didn’t answer. He just sat there, wringing his hands, staring off into the distance.

“How about we get you off this roof and downstairs, and I can make you hot chocolate or something,” Rhodey offered. 

“Not yet. Down there, it’s too..,” Tony trailed off, searching for the right word. “Too forced. Loud. Busy. Bright. I don’t know.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Tony nodded slightly, hands moving to grip the concrete underneath him. The night air was freezing him, but he couldn’t go down yet, they were still probably awake, and he couldn’t face them. If Bruce knew, and Rhodey knew, then the rest of the team knew, and he didn’t think he could stand their sad glances. 

“You know, when I said you can talk to me about anything, I really meant it,” Rhodey reminded him. “Like, anything at all. I miss your voice.”

Tony let out a cold laugh. “You’re the only one who does.”

“I don’t know, man, it gets pretty damn quiet when you’re not around,” Rhodey smiled sadly. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Uh..,” Tony started, thinking, looking up at the sky. “I’ve been thinking about getting rid of the arc reactor.”

“Like, in a ‘rip it out and die’, way, or a-”

“Oh, God no, Rhodey,” Tony let out a smile. “I’ve been thinking about different ways I could get the stuff out of my chest. Like, if I installed a magnet on the ceiling or somewhere above me, I could get the shrapnel out. But I don’t know if I’m going to be able to take the housing metal out, because my body has adjusted, which means if I take it out, there’s gonna be a lot of collapsing happening.”

“Then leave it in.”

“But I have a smaller lung capacity, which means simple colds can be deadly. And it’s fine now, because the reactor gives off heat, but if it gets cold outside, if it rains, shit’s gonna hurt,” he looked down at his lap, laughing without emotion. “I don’t know. It’s pain, either way. I’m always going to be in pain.”

“You’re not even a medical doctor. Have you taken it up with Cho?”

“I’m trying to figure this out myself. Gives me something to do. I’m not in a rush,” Tony said softly. “But even if I leave the housing metal in, I’ll be stronger, y’know? Nobody can use it against me. Not like with...him.”

“Nobody here is going to use it against you.”

“Yeah, I thought that about him as well, and then he ripped it out of my chest,” Tony shook his head, his fingertips getting cold as he suppressed memories. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Got it. Have I told you my first impression of you back in MIT?” Rhodey grinned, changing the subject with ease.

“No, what was it?” Tony met his eyes for the first time that night.

“What’s this little spork doing in Advanced Electrical Engineering and Computer Science?” Rhodey joked.

“I’ll have you know I aced that course,” Tony smiled softly, and Rhodey felt his heart melt with relief. He was smiling. He was okay.

“I know you did. Which was why my second impression of you was ‘I need to befriend this guy so I can copy his notes’.”

“You talked to me just because you wanted to copy off of me? Rude,” Tony joked, nudging Rhodey in the shoulder.

“Woah, no pushing on the roof. Let’s go down, yeah?” Rhodey offered again. 

“Alright,” Tony stood up, his feet crunching on the gravel as he turned his back on the edge.

Rhodey smiled. Tony was okay. Tony trusted him. His friend was doing better, turning his back on things that made him uneasy, and he was getting better at voicing his thoughts. His real thoughts, not the ones that the press thought he was thinking. And he felt proud of himself a bit, having broken down Tony’s carefully constructed wall, the one put in place by his parents, by his traumas, the one he’d been working on taking down since they’d met. But most importantly, he was proud of Tony. He was proud of how far he’d come, and how he had opened up and trusted Rhodey with his plans, with his feelings. 

“You coming, Rhodes?” Tony smirked at the smile Rhodey had on his face.

“Always right behind you, Tones,” Rhodey stood up, dusting off his jeans and following his friend.

\--

Tony was showing up at the common floor more. That’s progress.

Tony was eating with the team more. That’s progress.

Heck, Tony was eating. That itself was progress.

So as soon as Tony was deemed healthy enough, mentally and physically, he was allowed to go on a practice mission.

It was something below what they usually got called in for, but it gave the same feel and allowed the team to work together, to get used to each other, in a low-risk environment. 

Or so they thought.

“Engine one down. Backup engine turning on,” Tony informed them, trying to manually restart the engine from the cockpit. They were returning, and someone had gotten into their ship, messing it up.

It was supposed to be simple. A bank robbery with hostages. Something they probably would’ve handled no problem if it wasn’t for the alien tech they had. Someone had planted an interrupter of some sort on their dashboard when they had infiltrated the ship.

“Engine two down,” Tony said, a hint of panic in his voice. “Back up engine number two on.”

“What did they even put on it?” Clint said, inspecting the parachutes. Just in case.

“Some sort of thing that’s interfering with the signal between the dashboard and the engines,” Tony said, getting into his suit. “We’ll probably have to eject.”

“Back up engine two down,” Natasha read. “Everyone, get parachutes. We’re going down.”

“Engine three down. We’re running out of time!” Tony yelled, throwing a parachute to Steve. “Back up engine one down now as well!”

Flashing lights and blaring alarms were making Tony light-headed, and more and more panic rose in his throat as even more red lights turned on. It was loud, way too loud, but he bit his tongue and carried on, trying to buy as much time as he could before they crash landed, or at least steer them into a field. They were flying over Toronto now, a very populated city, and he didn’t want civilian casualties.

“Go go go!” Clint yelled, pushing Natasha out of the open doors. Tony stayed to make sure their parachutes were working, sighing when the little mushrooms of colour bloomed below them.

“America! Get out!” Tony turned, realizing that Steve had not jumped with the others. “Super soldier or not, you can’t survive a crash at this speed!”

“The stupid thing won’t open!” Steve protested, pulling on the package to open it, but it was stuck. It was made out of tamper-proof plastic, so the only way to get it to open would be from the designated lock, which was jammed.

“We don’t have time!” Tony yelled, panicked, looking at the dashboard. All engines failed. “Get a different one!”

“There’s no other ones!” Steve roared in frustration, throwing the pack down on the ground and trying to stab it with his shield. “Why haven’t you jumped?”

“I’m trying to steer this thing!” Tony yelled, trying to manually get the ship to turn, but the ground was coming closer and closer at an alarming rate.

“You’re going to kill yourself!” Steve warned, pulling him away from the control panel. Tony fought him, slamming the distress signal he’d neglected to press, causing even more lights to flash, and Steve yanked him back with such force that they both nearly fell over.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tony swore, then grabbed Steve by the waist; it would be too late to eject a parachute at this height. Tony’s attempts took them into the outskirts of Toronto, and the ship landed in a cow farm, maybe murdering a few cows. He covered Steve’s body with his suit, wrapping his arms around him as they landed in a nearby wheat field, ship debris following.

They crash landed, Tony’s bones jarring with the impact, feeling his head bounce around in the suit, and no guessing what it did to Steve, who wasn’t even in armour. Once they had slowed, covered in dirt and grain, he threw Captain America off of him. He seemed to be intact; there wasn’t even that much blood.

“Christ,” Steve whispered painfully, his hands going to his head, holding it for a few seconds.

Tony didn’t know what caused it, but a wave of panic hit him like a truck. His suit was flashing lights, just like in the ship; the red and the warnings on his dashboard made him feel dizzy. He flipped up his mask so he wouldn’t have to look at it, but the alarms still filled his ears, and he was spiraling. He couldn’t breathe. 

Steve was hurt. It was his fault. They wouldn’t even be on this trip if it wasn’t for him, they would’ve left it to the police. Who knows how Natasha and Clint are doing, who even knows where they are. They were all alone, all worried, all lost, and injured, and it was all his fault. God, he was a mistake. Why couldn’t they have just let him die? 

He took off his helmet and turned away from Steve, kneeling down, an arm pressed hard against the ground, supporting his upper body as the other one clutched at his chest. His hands were so cold, even inside the suit, and he was getting hot and cold flashes, like he did during his nightmares, but this was a real-life nightmare, Steve was hurt, Natasha and Clint were somewhere, and their comms were all disconnected. There was no way of finding them.

“Stark? You okay?” Steve said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder, even though he barely felt it through his armour.

“All’s good,” Tony lied, holding his breath, and letting it out in a puff of air. His senses were all going off, everything was too strong, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth made him nauseous, his injuries were suddenly all flaring up, and everything was hot and cold and-

“Breathe, okay? You’re having a panic attack,” Steve informed him, as if he already didn’t know.

“Yup. Guessed that already,” he said, taking in a painful gulp of air. It felt like knives in the back of his throat. 

“Breathe.”

“I can do this myself,” Tony hissed, but there wasn’t any bite. He couldn’t muster up the energy to fight him, to actually have any anger.

“But you don’t have to.”

Tony screwed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the tidal wave of thoughts and emotions that threatened to take him under. He tried focusing on his heartbeat, but that was all way too fast for him, and it changed, it was too unsteady, and he was unsteady, and Goddammit he was thinking too much again. Stop thinking. It only makes things worse.

“You’re alive, right? So am I. We’re okay,” Steve reassured him. “Just breathe.”

He opened his eyes, looking at the trampled wheat field. He focused on the positives. The ship didn’t land in the major city, Natasha and Clint had each other. Steve was alive. They were both also relatively uninjured, maybe a few sprains and a concussion, but nothing too serious. They were both up and breathing. His arc reactor was working. Wait, was it? 

His chest was pounding in pain, something he had noticed but dismissed it as his lungs screaming for air. He glanced down, breathing a sigh of relief when the pale blue emitted a steady light. He focused on that, letting the light burn into his eyes, until he could breathe, until the hot and cold flashes went away, until the pain in his chest subsided.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, once the colour had returned to Tony’s face, and he was no longer grabbing at his chest.

“Like shit,” Tony laughed coldly, closing his eyes and picking himself up mentally. He was okay. Steve was okay. They were all okay. He fell back, sitting on his butt in the crushed wheat.

They sat in silence in the field. Police sirens were blaring, and SHIELD was probably called. Tony thought for a minute about what he’d tell them, then turned to Steve.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If they know about… about that, then they won’t let me stay. I’ll have to get re-evaluated, I’ll have to get everything done again, I’ll probably have to take more pills, and everyone will get worried again, and-”

“Don’t get yourself worked up. It’s fine,” Steve patted his shoulder. “I won’t tell.”

“Thanks,” Tony nodded, staring back at the police cars in the distance. A helicopter was circling now, the noise filling the air. 

“Do they happen often?” Steve questioned. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know.”

“It’s fine. They’ve been a lot more common after New York, it’s just, I don’t know. Something about flying a nuke into space and dying stirred something in me,” Tony laughed, but there wasn’t any humour behind it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Pepper. Rhodey,” Tony shrugged. “I don’t generally like to voice these things to the public, y’know?”

“I get it,” Steve nodded. 

The noise of the chopper grew louder and louder, the wind picking up, the many eyes up there searching for them, but they didn’t move. Didn’t want to. Too tired and too broken. 

“There a reason you aren’t flying up or what?” Came Fury’s voice from a megaphone, directly above them in the helicopter.

“On our way!” Steve yelled, standing up. He extended an arm toward Tony. “You coming?”

“I have a choice?” Tony joked, grinning up at Steve’s face, because it was all okay.

Tony took his hand and Steve helped him up, in more ways than one.

\--

“Hey, can you come down for a second?” 

“Sure, Tones, everything okay?” Rhodey said into his phone, his voice wavering as he quickly made his way down the stairs. Tony never called him just to ask for him.

“I need your help,” Tony admitted, turning his spinny chair to face the many screens and tabs he had open. 

“With what?”

“You know when people die, they generally write notes and stuff, or things, or wills?” Tony chewed on his lip.

“Shit,” Rhodey slipped out, stumbling down the stairs faster. “Yeah? You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“Well, I was thinking-” Tony broke himself off, shaking his head, trying to find the best way to explain things. “I’ll just explain when you get here. It’s easier if I show you.”

“I’m almost there.”

“And don’t worry. I’m not planning anything. At least, not what you’re thinking,” Tony reassured him, and the steadiness in his voice made Rhodey audibly sigh in relief.

“Good,” Rhodey said, arriving at the door and typing in his keypad number. “Here.”

Tony hung up and turned his chair so he could face him. “I need a favour.”

“Yeah?” Rhodey nodded, checking him for any signs of distress, but he seemed to be okay. 

“Can you,” Tony broke off, gesturing at the screens. “I need you to delete this. I can’t do it. I need it gone.”

“What is it?” he asked, walking over to Tony’s screen. There was a file selected, right clicked already with the delete option glaring at him. 

“It’s what I was talking about earlier. Notes. Instructions. Passwords,” Tony explained, his voice wavering. “I finalized the file the night when I, when I tried to, you know.”

“You haven’t deleted it yet?” Rhodey asked, raising a finger to press the button on the hologram.

“I thought I might still need it. It’s too tempting. I need it gone. Wiped. No recovery files,” Tony stood up beside Rhodey, breathing heavily. “Please.”

“Ready?” Rhodey asked, the pad of his finger hovering over it.

“Yeah. Please,” Tony said breathlessly, and Rhodey grabbed onto his elbow with his other hand, pressing the button. Confirmation was required, and Tony told him the password, and he typed it in. 

The file disappeared, along with the tabs open on the other screens. Replaced with empty air. 

“Gone,” Rhodey smiled down at him, squeezing his elbow and sitting him back down in his chair.

“Thank you,” Tony sighed, a massive weight lifting from his shoulders. He sat up straighter, leaning back in the chair. He felt lighter, like he could fly, like he could do anything. “I think we need an impromptu movie night. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or any type of comedy.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Rhodey grinned. “And Tones?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you,” Rhodey smiled softly, patting his knee.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, you know I’m allergic to emotions,” Tony mirrored his smile, his eyes showing life that had been missing for a long time.

Tony would never admit it out loud, but he was proud of himself too.


End file.
